


Just To Make You See

by youaresunlight



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Fluff, Jealous Dean, M/M, Makeover, Mutual Pining, Shipper Sam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-16
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-30 20:59:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3951553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/youaresunlight/pseuds/youaresunlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’ve been reading,” Cas explains, lifting his coat to reach for something inside. It’s another magazine but not one about nature or economics. It’s a <em>GQ</em> with a suave male celebrity gracing the cover. “There’s an article in here that gives advice to those who are ‘seeking to escape the friend zone.’”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just To Make You See

**Author's Note:**

> Written for dean-baechester, who donated to my Dreams2Acts: Nicaragua campaign!

It’s a rare day off from hunting, their first in maybe a month. Sam still finds himself nestled in the library but, to be fair, he’s reading for pleasure. Dean, who spots him shortly after breakfast, calls him a ‘nerd’ before leaving the bunker for a drive. Sam doesn’t mind since Cas makes very pleasant company; he’s on the other side of the table now with a short stack of _National Geographic_ s.

“Sam,” he breaks the silence, not lowering the magazine but meeting Sam’s eyes over the page. His voice is actually a welcome distraction, so Sam puts down his book and shifts to face him properly.

“Yeah, what’s up, Cas?”

Cas chews on his lip till the whole thing is red. “Do you, um, think I’m attractive?”

“Wh-” Sam chokes on his breath. “What?” He stares across the table where Cas is frowning, staring right back, and when it hits him that Cas is serious Sam stifles a sigh, leans his body forward.

“Mind telling me what this is about?”

“It’s a simple question…” Cas says quietly. He looks uneasy like he needs the validation.

“You’re attractive,” Sam replies, deciding to cut the guy some slack. He’s willing to bet that the root of all this is something else, but Cas just seems so _forlorn_ that he adds, “You’re good-looking, man. Most would agree.”

Cas blushes, dropping his eyes, like he expected Sam to tell him otherwise. He smoothes a palm over the photo of a dolphin on his magazine, then tilts his head in that curious, endearingly bird-like way of his. “Most, meaning…?”

Sam laughs and goes with the answer in his gut. “Most people. So women and men.”

“Oh.”

Cas coughs and turns away like he has a million questions without the means to express them. Sam waits patiently for him glance back up. “Hey, Cas, what’s this really about?”

A beat passes between them then Cas just slumps, not bothering to hide it any longer.

“Sam, do you think- If I asked Dean the same question-” He swiftly backtracks when Sam raises an eyebrow, “I would phrase it differently, of course. I imagine Dean’s reaction would be far more… defensive.”

“Y-yeah, I mean…” Sam pauses, remembering to choose his words very carefully. “But Cas, you have to have noticed. Dean- He looks at you a lot, you know, like with _interest_.”

Cas blinks. “What makes you say that?” he asks earnestly.

Sam resists the urge to bang his head against the table. He also wonders what exactly goes on during their stare matches, whether they’re so damn mesmerized by the other that they don’t even realize that the whole thing is mutual. “Just trust me,” he says. “Why’re you asking, though, out of the blue?” He thinks he might get whiplash from seeing Cas so nervous like this, especially since he was badass and smiting the shit out of things the night before.

“I’ve been reading,” Cas explains, lifting his coat to reach for something inside. It’s another magazine but not one about nature or economics. It’s a _GQ_ with a suave male celebrity gracing the cover. “There’s an article in here that gives advice to those who are ‘seeking to escape the friend zone.’”

“Huh.” Sam isn’t sure where to even begin. “Is, uh- Any of it useful?”

“Much of the context isn’t applicable to me, or any of us.” Cas frowns at the issue like it has personally offended him.

“That’s not surprising,” Sam offers sympathetically. “I doubt we’re their target demo.”

“Yes,” Cas replies with a sigh, “although there was one that could possibly-” He straightens up, cautiously hopeful. “One of the suggestions mentioned changing your look. That if you and your, ah, object of affection have been friends for a long time, then perhaps a renewed impression might be helpful.”

“You know, that actually… makes sense.” Sam is as shocked as he sounds. He’d always assumed these pointers would be ridiculous, flat-out lies.

Cas nods resolutely. “And considering that I’ve donned this outfit for, well, _years_ , I-” His eyes dart up all huge and sad and that’s the final straw for Sam to make up his mind.

“You up for a drive, Cas?”

“Um,” Cas squints like Sam just asked him a trick question, “yes?”

“Great, we’re taking your car.” Sam stands and beckons the angel to follow. “Bring the _GQ_.”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Cas’ taste in clothes takes Sam by surprise with how normal it is - for the most part. Not that he’s in any position to police _fashion_ , but he has eyes that can tell when a pair of jeans fit right or when that blue shirt covered in flamingos has to go.

“But it’s eye-catching,” Cas points out. He looks like a dad hanging out at a barbecue. “It’s different.”

Sam suppresses a pained sigh or three. “It isn’t quite summer yet though? I mean, those jeans are good so we’re partway there.”

Fortunately, Cas concedes and puts it back, and they migrate from the button-downs to tees and hoodies and shorts. They’re on opposite sides of a rack when Cas says “I recognize this” and holds up a shirt. It’s a Zeppelin tee, dark grey, black logo, fairly plain. It could’ve come from Dean’s dresser but has a slimmer fit, would be great for Cas.

“Try it on,” Sam says with a nod. Cas beams and drapes the shirt over his arm with the jeans.

The pile grows as they continue to browse: a second pair of pants, a plaid shirt, and a blue shirt that draws attention to Cas’ eyes. They pick out socks - and Sam gets a few pairs for himself - but even with the shoes, he still feels like something’s missing, that extra oomph.

It isn’t until they’ve crossed the floor that Sam finally finds what he’d been looking for. His grin is unabashedly triumphant as he calls over his shoulder, “Cas! Come here, this is exactly what we need.”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“Since when do _you_ want to go to a bar?”

Sam does his best to pretend like he’s put upon by the question. “Since I want a beer that’s not from the grocery store? Sue me.”

Dean huffs but reaches for his jacket nonetheless.

Sam grabs his phone under the pretense of checking for the time. There’s a message from Cas, just a single thumbs-up emoji. He smiles. “Hey, so, Cas is gonna join us. He’s meeting us there.”

Dean’s fingers hover above his collar like they’ve suddenly forgotten their purpose. “Oh. Yeah, alright. Cool. Guy could, uh, use a break. A night out… with the… with-”

“With the team?” Sam supplies. _With his equally oblivious crush_ goes unsaid.

“Sure,” Dean clears his throat. “Anyway, we should head out then. Don’t wanna keep him… you know.”

“Yup,” Sam agrees, and as he trails behind Dean, sends a quick ‘Leaving now!’ over to Cas.

He tries not to laugh when Cas replies with three blushy faces.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Sam is able to spot Cas right away; he’s at the bar like they had planned, turned toward the bartender and nursing a beer. Dean, on the lookout for a dress shirt, suit, and trench coat, misses all of this entirely as they slide into a booth.

“Guess he isn’t here yet?” he asks with a frown.

Sam pulls out his phone and pretends to scroll through his texts. “He should be. I got a message five minutes ago.”

“Why does he always text you?” Dean gripes. “Does he not know how to send a group text?” Even so, his gaze scans the bar, almost restless. “Maybe he went to the bathroom.”

“I don’t think angels need to, Dean.”

Dean’s grunt is noncommittal and he’s still looking, craning his head. Sam sees his eyes travel over to the bar a second time and thank god, there’s a double take and confusion crossing his features.

“Sam, doesn’t that…?” Dean narrows his eyes. “Never mind.”

“Does what?” Sam prompts, but Dean merely shakes his head.

“No, nothing. Just thought I, um, saw someone.”

“Who?”

“No one,” Dean answers quickly, before awkwardly slapping his palm on the table. “I’ll, uh, I’ll go get us some beers. What do you want?”

Sam doesn’t know _how_ he isn’t losing his shit. “Just whatever they’ve got on tap,” he shrugs. Dean mumbles and knocks his foot into their table as he leaves.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Dean feels vaguely crazy as he walks up to the bar.

There’s a guy on one of the stools who looks just like Cas - well, at least from the back. The thought throws him for several reasons because it’s like he’s _seeing_ him again; there’s no way that dude is Cas. Because he just saw Cas this morning, trench-coat-clad with his hair all tousled and fluffy and- _Anyway_ , this guy’s hair looks far more artfully disheveled. Cas’ hasn’t been like that in… well, years.

Okay, Dean _really_ needs to stop thinking about hair.

He doesn’t even realize he’s reached the bar until the brunette behind it asks, “What can I get you?”

“Two beers,” he tells her distractedly. “Uh, hey, actually… make that three.”

She nods and taps at a screen. “Light or dark?”

“Um-”

“I think you’ll prefer the dark beer, Dean.”

Dean freezes. He’d recognize that voice anywhere.

When he turns toward it, his heart gives a lurch. “Cas?”

There’s a couple between them so Cas gets off his stool to walk around. He places his beer down on the counter and fixes a smile at Dean. “Hello.”

“You…”

It’s shameless, how Dean rakes his eyes over Cas’ outfit. Cas must notice, if the faint blush on his cheeks is anything to go by.

“Is it strange?” Cas wonders, sounding a little self-conscious. “I- I thought it might be a nice change.”

Dean wracks his brain for a more platonic way to say ‘hot.’ Because Christ, Cas’ legs look even longer in those snug black pants, not to mention his Zeppelin shirt makes it seem like he’s wearing Dean’s clothes.

And that leather jacket.

Wow.

_Fuck_.

“You look good,” he finally says, his mouth running dry at how Cas’ expression lights up, soft and bright. “Forgot to brush your hair though, huh?” he teases, and before he knows it, his hand’s in Cas’ hair, gentle and fond. He marvels at the part of Cas’ lips, adorably shy.

“I’m relieved that you think so,” Cas leans into the touch. “If I’m to be honest, I’ve been… very anxious the entire day.”

“You were anxious,” Dean echoes back, the question clear in his voice.

“Yes, I…” Cas trails off, gaze falling to the floor where his feet are shifting from left to right. And Jesus, Dean’s hand is still tangled in his hair and they must look ridiculous, sappy as shit.

Dean coughs and drops the hand to Cas’ shoulder, gives it a squeeze. 

“Why were you anxious?” he asks again.

The lights hit Cas’ eyes just so, making them shine. “We have been friends for quite some time, Dean, and I thought… that I could… refresh your image of me.”

“Okay, but-” Dean frowns as he attempts to process all of that, and fails. “Sorry, I’m not… Why do you need me to think of you any different?”

Cas regards him warmly, indulgently, and something about it just clenches Dean’s heart.

“Because Dean,” he begins, slightly above a murmur, “I wish for us to be more than friends.”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

For a single tense, silent, and frankly agonizing minute, Cas is certain that he’s made a huge mistake.

Dean, despite not having avoided or broken eye contact, hasn’t said anything either and Cas is ready to take it all back and just apologize. What was he _thinking_ , confessing to Dean after all this time? Why did he involve Sam - kind, well-intentioned _Sam_ \- knowing how awkward it could become for the three of them? How could he bear to look at Dean after tonight? How could he bear _not_ to, when he’s so in love?

The apology is on the tip of his tongue, about to slip, so Cas opens his mouth just as Dean does the same.

“I’m sorry, De-”

“You did this for me?”

Dean doesn’t seem… angry so much as surprised, and curious.

“Yes, it was a suggestion in a magazine,” Cas says. “The, um, makeover, I mean. N-not my feelings for you. That part is all me, of course.”

Oh, god, he needs to stop saying words.

“I don’t believe this,” Dean says, but it doesn’t sound cold or like he’s offended. In fact, his mouth is curving up at the corner and his eyes are crinkling - moss, apple green, forest trees, simply beautiful.

Cas attempts to tamp down on the hope in his chest, flickering and threatening to overwhelm his heart. “Dean?” he hedges weakly. He braces himself for the rejection that’s sure to come.

“I can’t believe I was such an idiot,” Dean laughs, and wait, that’s not- That’s not the direction he thought they were headed.

“What?” he asks delicately, because he can’t quite follow Dean’s train of thought and he wants to be cautious. Just in case.

“I had no idea,” Dean says, dragging a hand over his mouth and stubble. “God, and you even…” he gestures to the entirety of Cas and Cas thinks he understands - at least, why Dean is looking so guilty.

“It wasn’t any trouble, if that’s what you’re concerned about.” Cas straightens his jacket a bit as he peers up at Dean, hoping that the truth of his assurance comes across.

Dean just studies him for a moment then says, “You know, you didn’t need to do all that.”

And oh, of course. Reality strikes Cas like an anvil from the sky. Dean is clearly being gentle about this, clearly at a loss at how to tell him that this whole plan was pointless. Pointless because Cas’ crush is unrequited and will always be. Cas feels like he should say something before he- His breathing is strained now and his eyes are prickling and- Why is Dean coming closer?

“You, um, remember that time Zachariah tried to gank me in Kansas City? You pulled me out of there and said it was ‘cause-”

“We had an appointment,” Cas finishes for him. “I remember.”

“Yeah, well, remember the other thing I said?” Dean smiles and his hand is a firm, welcome weight on Cas’ arm. “I told you to never change, right?” Cas nods and Dean lets out a short, shaky breath. “I meant it, okay? You don’t need to change for me. I already like you, and I’m… Christ, Cas, I’m a sure thing.”

It takes a few seconds for the words to register, the syllables ‘like you’ ringing on repeat in his head. He’s grateful when Dean tightens the grip on his arm, because their point of contact is the only thing that’s grounding him right now. Impossible as it is, Cas feels like he might otherwise float away or sink into the floor. And in a flash of sheer, maybe-insane courage, he takes a step forward straight into Dean’s arms.

Dean tenses for the briefest moment then melts around him, settling his hands on Cas’ back. He runs a palm up and down, soothingly over the jacket, and his breath falls in a faint, warm puff against his hair.

“Hey,” he chuckles softly. “You alright, Cas? I feel like I spooked you.”

Cas shakes his head, nosing the fabric of Dean’s shirt.

“I thought it was just me,” he breathes in awe. “I thought- I was so _sure_ that I’d be alone in this, Dean.”

Dean laughs because Cas is adorable, but there’s also a pang inside his chest at the thought of Cas facing these emotions by himself. Hell, it’s _Dean_ who’s afraid of feelings; but he’s human, it’s to be expected. Cas has been lightning, the cosmos, _celestial_ for four millennia and Dean can’t imagine how it must feel to suddenly be helpless against something like romantic insecurity.

So now, he tugs his angel a little closer, props his chin on Cas’ shoulder and says, “You’re right about a lot of things, Cas. I guess you were wrong about this one.”

Cas’ answer, though muffled, sounds suspiciously like “I’m glad.”

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Sam is quiet once the three of them are reunited in their booth. He’s sure that his pleased expression speaks sufficiently and very, very loudly on his behalf.

“Will you stop?” Dean nudges his elbow. “We get it, okay. You knew this was gonna happen. Here, you can have a gold star. Have five.”

“Dean,” Cas placates gently, and Sam snorts when his brother backs down and withdraws his arm.

“So whipped already,” he muses, more like a chirp he’s so damn cheerful. He gets one look at Dean’s scowl then bursts out laughing till Dean’s bright red.

“Why don’t I get us another round,” Cas offers. Dean’s still scowling but nods at the suggestion.

“I hate you,” he snarks at Sam, who smiles breezily and asks, “You too, jerk. Where’re you going?”

“The bathroom, bitch,” Dean says over his shoulder, and Sam ponders out loud how Dean could possibly be apart from Cas for five minutes.

He’s too busy laughing at Dean that he almost misses Cas being approached by another guy back at the bar. He looks young, one of those preppy frat brothers crowding the jukebox, and Sam silently prays for his safety when Dean returns and eyes the kid like a hawk.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

Dean can’t fucking believe this.

Honestly, he’s gone for minutes - _minutes_ \- and now there’s some _kid_ just circling Cas, undoubtedly drooling over those pouty pink lips and ruffled hair. Dean doesn’t blame him, objectively speaking, but if there’s one thing he cannot stand, it’s people putting their hands on what doesn’t fucking belong to them.

The kid, who looks like he’s maybe a day over twenty-one, is practically perched beside Cas like some polo-wearing vulture. Cas is squinting in distrust, clearly uncomfortable with how close they are, and even as his possessiveness stirs and rears its ugly head, Dean delights at the fact that Cas is so selective with proximity.

And when that vulture dares to move closer to Cas, so does Dean with both hands clenched into fists.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“Don’t think I’ve seen you here before,” says the boy. His features brim with confidence from his eyes down to the curl of his lips. “I mean, you’re really fucking hot. I definitely would’ve noticed.”

Cas’ fingers flex over the bar, unsure of how to discourage the advances. Once upon a time he would’ve been oblivious to such intentions, but he’s been among humanity for seven years now and has learned a thing or two about pick-up lines - the bad ones.

“I assure you that I am much too old for you,” he says. It’s almost comical, how absurdly true that is.

Much to his exasperation, the boy merely shrugs and states, “I’ve hooked up with older guys.”

“Listen,” Cas opens his mouth to dissuade him, especially when he sees Dean nearby, ready to strike. “I am here with someone else. I’d really prefer not to cause a scene.”

“What, that tall guy sitting in the booth?” the kid smirks and leans against the bar, undeterred. “C’mon, doesn’t look like he’s doing much to stop me.”

“No, that’s really not-”

“Baby, there you are,” a gentle kiss presses into his cheek. “What’s takin’ so long, sweetheart? Are they making you wait?” Dean’s voice is warm, like honey, like a pleasant summer day.

“No, Dean, I was waiting for you,” Cas smiles. He feels Dean’s hand settle firmly on his waist, can feel just how strongly Dean is restraining himself for him.

Dean casts a pointed look at the boy then turns to Cas with a wolfish grin. He lifts the hand not fitted around the dip of Cas’ waist and brushes a finger across the curve of his mouth, soft yet claiming. “Not gettin’ too friendly again, are you?” he asks.

Cas can’t help the low shiver that runs along his spine. “You know I wouldn’t,” he replies, as coyly as he can manage, then sidles off the stool before acknowledging the boy, “It was nice to meet you. Enjoy your night.”

The poor kid looks shocked and clearly intimidated by Dean’s presence. He swallows hard and mumbles something indistinct before darting off.

“Jesus, Cas,” Dean sighs, touching his forehead softly to Cas.’ “Can’t even leave you alone for a minute.”

“Well,” Cas says serenely, “then it’s a good thing that I’m all yours.”

Dean groans and reluctantly pulls back, eyes dark. “I really wanted to rip that kid’s _lungs_ out, you know that?”

“Yes, I do,” Cas says, reaching up to cup Dean’s jaw. “Thank you for not doing that. He was just a boy, Dean. No harm done.”

“Right,” Dean nods, leaning back in to kiss his cheek. The ease of the gesture, how natural it feels, makes Castiel’s heart knock around inside his chest. “Our beers are probably flat now,” Dean laughs. “Let’s go, we’ll tell Sammy to drink ‘em.”

Cas rolls his eyes but grabs two of the glasses, while Dean reaches around him to pick up the third. Once they’re back at the booth, however, Dean is peeling a napkin off his glass with narrowed eyes.

“What’s this?” he mutters darkly, staring at the napkin like it might bite. There are ten digits written across it and a loopy, now-smudged heart drawn below them. “Seriously? The bartender too?!”

Cas blushes while Dean glares witheringly at the bar, where a blonde woman flinches guiltily and offers a wave in sheepish apology. Dean just huffs with his arm slung possessively around Cas’ shoulders, still so purple in the face that Sam sits back, pulls out his phone, and takes a photo.

 

◇ ◇ ◇

 

“I must thank you, Sam,” Cas tells him the next morning. They’re in the kitchen, the rich aroma of fresh coffee filling the air, and Cas’ voice mingles with the low sizzle of breakfast cooking on the stove.

“Well, Dean was getting unbearable,” Sam laughs. “I’m, um, glad it worked out?”

It’s a rhetorical question, of course. He’s already noticed the bitten red of Cas’ mouth despite himself.

“Yes, I…” Cas rubs the back of neck, smiles so widely that it lights up his eyes. “I couldn’t be happier.”

“Good,” Sam nods then thinks, ‘You deserve it.’

“Those better not be egg-white omelettes,” Dean says, lumbering into the room and taking Cas’ hand as he passes the angel. They look sweet, standing like that, far more relaxed than Sam’s ever seen them. He feigns annoyance, dumping all omelette duties on Dean, and doesn’t miss how they move together to end up side-by-side against the island counter.

He lets them be for a little while, what with their fingers entwined and their smiles shy but bright. Even with Hell and Heaven and Purgatory between them, their relationship has always preserved a certain tenderness, and it’s evident now more than ever that they’re both exactly what the other’s been missing this whole time.

Dean takes the arm not working the spatula to circle Cas’ waist, tugging him closer. Cas sighs, resting his cheek on Dean’s shoulder, and sure, Sam could leave them to their gross domesticity. Or, you know, he could:

“Hey, Dean, um. What’s that on your neck?”

A cube of ham zips past his head and Sam just laughs as he dodges the next one.

**Author's Note:**

> [Rebloggable link here](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/post/119132862910/dean-cas-just-to-make-you-see) | [Learn how to get a fic of your own](http://puppycastiel.tumblr.com/post/115338397325/hello-friends-thanks-to-the-encouragement-from)
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please do leave me kudos, comments, and love! :)
> 
> P.S. [This](http://i.imgur.com/hWA6bGP.jpg) was my inspiration for Cas' outfit.


End file.
